


day sixteen

by julek



Series: Winterfest 2020 [16]
Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Meetings, Ice Sculptures, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:14:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28142211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/julek/pseuds/julek
Summary: Geralt's dragged to a Christmas party for Yennefer's law firm. It's not so bad, after all.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Series: Winterfest 2020 [16]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2041318
Comments: 3
Kudos: 108





	day sixteen

Geralt’s not really sure what he’s looking at. 

The sculpture that he supposes is meant to represent a swan gracefully bowing its head is... weird. The swan’s neck is too short, its wings too narrow and its feet are enormous. He’s never seen anything like it, in terms of utter and immediate horror, yet there it proudly sits, among the too-small plates that contain the remnants of the earlier hors d'oeuvres the waiters had been serving around. 

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” A voice behind him makes Geralt flinch, the half-empty champagne glass in his hands threatening to spill on the carpeted floor. He turns around, expecting to see yet another obnoxious, self-entitled, daddy’s boy lawyer —much like the ones he’s had to deal with all night long— but is instead met with a much different view. 

Geralt’s always prided himself on his composed, impassive demeanor, but he has to bite back a gasp as he takes the man in front of him in. He’s not wearing a suit, for one — his high waisted dress pants immediately draw Geralt in, the black fabric snug and seemingly tailored to fit him perfectly, going down to his calves, where his ankles are exposed just above his shiny black shoes. The man’s shirt is black, too, but the fabric’s so thin Geralt could see his nipples through it, if he wanted to. His brown hair is falling on his face, the curls brushed back but escaping the tie where they were neatly gathered in a bun. He looks _elegant_ , and so out of place at the same time, surrounded by vainglorious assholes in three-piece suits.

“Um,” he says dumbly, taking a sip of his champagne just to occupy his mouth before he says something stupid. He gestures to the sculpture. “It’s... something.”

The man flashes him a smile, then grabs a toothpick with some shrimp on it. “It’s hideous, that’s what it is. I can’t believe they would put it here, on display for everyone to see, when it’s clearly an icy crime against humanity.” He swallows. “What brings you here? I see you’re not interested in hearing _all_ about Frank’s new yacht,” he says with a smirk, pointing his toothpick to the group of burly men gathered around a man with a receding hairline. 

“I, uh, I’m here with a friend,” he says, nodding to where Yennefer stands, tall and beautiful, making small talk with some coworkers. “It’s her first year at the firm and she wanted to make a good impression.”

“I’m guessing that’s where you come in,” the man says. Geralt nods, distracted by the way the man keeps licking shrimp off his lips, and it shouldn’t be endearing— no, it should be gross. It isn’t. “Well, lucky for me, then. I won’t have to suffer tonight alone,” he reaches for a glass of champagne from an abandoned tray, “or sober.”

“And what brings you here?” Geralt says, his voice surprisingly steady.

The man licks his lips. Again. “Oh, I’m the firm’s accountant.” His voice gets serious and monotone and he says, “Julian, at your service,” then, his voice normal, “but you can call me Jaskier.”

Geralt frowns. “You don’t look like an accountant.”

“ _Thank you_ ,” Jaskier whispers, and his smile is so bright it’s infectious. “I wish my mom could hear you. No, yeah, I’m an accountant, did the ten thousand years it takes to graduate— I’ve got a license, even. It pays the bills.”

“I imagine it does,” Geralt says.

“Yeah, well— means to an end, really,” he takes a sip of his champagne. “I’m a musician, actually.”

“Oh,” Geralt says, “that makes more sense, actually. I take it accounting’s not your true passion?”

Jaskier snorts. “Surprisingly enough, typing numbers into a computer and maintaining dull phone calls forty hours a week is _not_ my calling! Nor is spending my Friday night at a work event, but, well, here we are.”

“Hmm.”

“So,” Jaskier says, his voice a low rumble, and the lights catch on his eyes, so, so blue Geralt feels the need to gasp for air. “Seems like your friend’s abandoned you.”

He looks in Yennefer’s direction, and true enough, she seems engrossed in conversation with a group of young lawyers, such as herself. Suddenly, Geralt’s glad she managed to drag him along instead of asking his brothers. He looks back at Jaskier, whose head is cocked to the side, like he’s trying to figure him out, but Geralt doesn’t miss the hungry look in his eyes as he lets his eyes roam over Geralt’s body. 

“Seems like it,” he agrees, and Jaskier rests his elbows on the table, leaning into his space.

“Do you think she’d miss you too much?” he purrs, his eyes dark. “I know my way around here, and I’m pretty sure there’s a _very_ spacious closet down the hallway.”

Geralt glances at Yennefer, then back at Jaskier, and oh — the lace that was so delicately tied at the front of his shirt is suddenly undone, flushed skin glittering under the warm lights of the ballroom. 

“No,” he whispers, reaching for Jaskier’s hand. “She won’t miss me at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow this series on [tumblr](http://julek.tumblr.com/tagged/winter%20prompts)!


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